The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [31]
The Enterprise’s captain waited another five minutes, until Data reported their distance from the artifact as one hundred thousand kilometers, then he spoke again. “Magnification factor one hundred, Mister Data.”
The viewscreen wavered again, then the alien artifact was visible as a dimly lit shape, though it was blurred because of the extreme enlargement. As Data had predicted, it seemed to be roughly rectangular, though most of its surface was obscured by the floating hulks that must be derelict spacecraft of all shapes and sizes.
Picard eyed them, trying to identify any of them by shape, but they were still too far away, and there were too many. They must all be derelicts, he thought. Brought here throughout the years. There could be ships hundreds of years old out there, he realized suddenly. Mon dieu, there could be ships thousands of years old … or millions.
“They’re trapped,” he heard Geordi whisper. “And we’re going to be, too … just like the Sargasso Sea …”
Automatically Jean-Luc’s mind supplied the reference, and he had to agree that it was an apt one. “Mister Crusher, can you get fixes on the orbits of those ships, enough to plot us a course close to the location of the PaKathen and the Marco Polo?”
“I’ve been working on that, Captain,” the young acting ensign replied. “We can maneuver in a limited fashion, as long as we don’t try and break free. I believe I can plot a course.”
“Good. Make it so. Keep shields on full, Mister Worf. We’ll need them to avoid hitting one of those derelicts.”
As the starship moved within fifty thousand kilometers of the artifact, Wesley Crusher spoke again. “Course plotted, Captain.”
“Can you slow us down?”
“I’ll try, sir.” The young officer’s hands moved capably, and their headlong rush toward their alien destination visibly slowed. “The tractor effect has lessened, Captain,” Wesley said, sounding surprised.
“It doesn’t want us to crash into it,” Picard guessed. “None of these other ships show signs of impact, do they?”
“No, sir.”
“Sir,” Riker said urgently, “perhaps we could break free now.”
“I doubt it, Number One,” Picard said quietly. “And if we engage in a tug-of-war with that thing, we’re likely to find ourselves ramming into some of those derelicts. Let’s wait until it has us where it wants us. The tractor beam may let up entirely then. And don’t forget, our orders are to rescue any survivors from those ships.” He straightened in his seat. “Mister Crusher, you may engage your course when ready.”
“Aye, sir!”
The Enterprise began weaving a complex pattern through the field of ships. They were still moving quickly enough to make some of their encounters seem entirely too close, but Wesley’s course was a good one.
As they passed through the floating vessels, Picard’s trained eyes quickly identified a Ferengi trade vessel, a Romulan warbird, a Gorn cruiser, an Akamerian Gatherer’s battered corsair, a Klingon cruiser (the PaKathen or another, he wondered), a Delosian courier, a Promellian battle cruiser, a Benzite trader, an Orion slave ship, a Deltan passenger vessel—it was like a catalogue of ships, past and present, and there were many, many vessels that were totally unfamiliar to him.
The Enterprise slowed and came to a full stop within twenty kilometers of the Marco Polo and some fifty kilometers from the Klingon vessel.
“Forward viewscreen on the artifact, Mister Data. Let’s get a good look at the thing,” Riker ordered.
The screen wavered for a moment, then filled with their alien captor. It lay 250 kilometers in front of them, full in view. Picard focused his gaze on the artifact—
Then, almost immediately, he was forced to look away. Beside him, Deanna Troi gasped. He heard Riker grunt softly, as though he were in pain, then Wesley made a choking, gagging noise.
With a giant effort of will, Picard made himself stare full at the thing. As soon as his eyes focused on it, he was immediately aware of a disorientation so great that his eyes, used to sane angles,